


Escape

by DPPatricks



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 11:33:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20389021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks
Summary: In uniform, after graduating from the BCPD Academy, Starsky and Hutch had mostly good days. Not all of them, however.





	Escape

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the Friday Fiction Prompt word, ‘escape,’ on the Starsky&Hutch Fans&FanFiction FaceBook page. Thanks to Paula and MariaPriest for the super betas.

Ken Hutchinson took a deep breath before getting into the squad car he shared with his partner, Dave Starsky. Figuratively speaking, he felt he was standing on the edge of the proverbial abyss and couldn’t seem to back away. He wanted to talk to Starsky about it but was afraid of what it might do to their friendship; they didn’t know each other well enough, yet.

Unable to concentrate, he didn’t pay much attention to Starsky’s chatter as they began their morning patrol.

“Not gonna be too hot today, Hutch, so this ol’ clunker’s a/c should hold up okay.”

“Uh… yeah, good, Starsk.”

“Too bad nobody in the briefing had anything new on that jewelry store heist.”

“Right, too bad.” 

“Cindy’s goin’ home to take care of her mom, not sure if she’ll be comin’ back.”

“I’m sorry,” Hutch muttered. Starsky always said he thought too much and, this morning especially, he was proving the gentle criticism true. In the lull that followed the news about Cindy’s departure, Hutch’s thoughts reviewed his and Starsky’s relationship since they’d met on the first day of classes.

They had spent the months at the BCPD Academy in each other’s back pockets and been graduated in a tie for the top spot. Afterward, he and Starsky had been separated for two years, working with their individual training officers. During that time, they had learned the ins and outs, dos and don’ts of surviving on the streets. Thankfully, they had also managed not to irritate anyone of importance too badly. 

Getting together as often as possible during their off-duty hours, they had convinced themselves that, once they were allowed to partner, things would get even better.

“You just wait, Hutch,” Starsky had said. “You’ll see.”

“I’m waiting, Starsk,” Hutch had replied, checking his pocket watch. “Right now, though, I have to get home.”

Starsky had grinned, wickedly. “Give my love to Van.”

Hutch had known the crack was meant kindly. “I’ll try, buddy.” 

Such teasing had been easy to take, at the time. Recently, however, it had struck too close to the pain he believed he was hiding. His wife, Vanessa, hated his partner with a passion and was getting more difficult to placate, or even talk to, every day. And the sex - what he used to consider making love, and once the best part of their marriage - was becoming… unsettling. 

Hutch brought his mind back to the present because Starsky had said something and he hadn’t heard it. “Uh… I’m sor… what did you say?”

Starsky cast him a doubtful look. “Are you still thinking about that pusher we busted last week?”

Doing his best to cover his distraction, Hutch nodded. “Uh… yeah… maybe I was.”

Starsky patted him companionably on the arm before placing his hand back on the wheel. “Forget it. With what we gave Morely and Patterson, they should be able to make a slam-dunk case for the D.A.”

Hutch put as much conviction into his tone as he could muster. “Right.” But his mind reverted immediately to thinking about his and Starsky’s partnership.

Once their training period had been completed, they had been paired and Starsky’s prediction had come true - things did get better. The inner city beat they patrolled had, with the help of Huggy Bear, Starsky’s long-time friend and confidential informant, settled into what might be considered a routine of responding to petty thefts, assaults, burglaries, muggings and, once in a while, the grittier crime of murder. 

Hutch and Starsky had made it a point to get to know everyone they could, from the hookers, pimps and street hustlers, plus the mom ‘n’ pop shop owners and their patrons, to the employees and residents of the local flop houses. They even knew the denizens of the alleys and underpasses by name. Elijah, Charles, Eddie, Lonely, and a dozen others were counted among the friends they helped out with a dollar or two when they could.

These street people, as their fellow officers and superiors referred to them, with clear condescension, were often the keys to solving crimes and, more importantly, preventing others. Starsky and Hutchinson’s beat was one of the most peaceful in the city. When something did happen, they were often able to give the detectives assigned to the case information that led to whatever solution was possible.

Inwardly, Hutch smiled, because his life during the day was good. Starsky was as solid and dependable as Hutch had hoped he’d be, and their working relationship was evolving so rapidly their fellow officers-in-uniform and their superiors were, for the most part, awe-struck by how quickly they were becoming a fantastic team. Hutch had his best friend to lean on, depend on, back up and support; whatever they had to deal with on the street, or elsewhere, they dealt with it!

On a personal level, though, Hutch hadn’t been as forthcoming with his thoughts and feelings, and he was uncertain what his partner would think of him after last night.

“Hutch….”

Hutch shook himself, mentally, and slammed the door on his ruminations. Looking into the concerned gaze of his partner, he tried to send back total innocence. “What?”

Starsky pulled the patrol car to the curb and switched off the engine. Half-turning in the seat, he drilled Hutch with a look that said, _enough bullshit!_ “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said since we got in the car, have you?”

Hutch shook his head, resigned to the inevitable. “Not really.”

“What’s goin’ on?”

Hutch drew in another deep breath, thinking, _here we go._ “You remember that disturbance call we responded to on Monday?”

Starsky’s voice took on an edge. “You mean the one that was a dead body, not a disturbance?” 

Hutch understood that the harsh tone wasn’t meant for him and nodded. “Yes. That one.”

“And not just any ol’ dead body, but a young woman who was probably involved in a bondage-dominance scene, judging by her nudity and the lash marks across her back.” By the time the sentence was finished, Starsky’s blue eyes had turned glacial. “The crime scene we were immediately evicted from when the team from Robbery-Homicide showed up? That the one you mean?”

Hutch was silent for so long, Starsky lost the rein on his patience. “Talk to me, buddy. Tell me what’s wrong!”

Hutch finally met his partner’s questioning stare. “I saw one of those R-H detectives last night.”

An increase in the intensity of Starsky’s icy gaze indicated his sharpened attention. “Where?”

“At a… private… party.” 

Possibly unconsciously, Starsky leaned toward Hutch a little, his interest piqued. “What kind of private party?”

Hutch had to swallow before his voice would work. “The kind he wouldn’t want anyone in the department knowing he was at.”

Starsky’s alarm was palpable. “Did he recognize you?”

Hutch shook his head. “No. Neither one of those guys looked at us on Monday, remember? We were just two unimportant uniforms who were escorted off the premises right away.”

“That’s good.” Starsky blew out a breath. “So, tell me about this private party. Which detective was there?”

Hutch glanced around, orienting himself as to where they were in their patrol route, took out his watch and checked the time. “Would Huggy let us in this early?”

Without answering, Starsky turned back to the wheel, started the car, put it in gear, and pulled out. “He’ll open up for us!”

Hutch tried to get his thoughts into some sort of order during the trip and was surprised when they arrived at The Pits as quickly as they did. While Starsky jumped out and began knocking on the door, Hutch called the station and logged them out for an early lunch. Then he made sure the squad car was buttoned up and secure before following his partner.

Huggy Bear wasn’t happy when he jerked the door open but one look at Starsky’s face, made him swallow whatever curse he’d prepared. “Mornin’, gentlemen.” He backed into the bar and locked the door behind them. 

Hutch could smell fresh coffee so he knew they weren’t all that early. “Sorry, Hug, but I needed a quiet place where Starsky and I can talk.”

“Then you made the right choice.” Huggy gestured to their regular booth. “Sit yourselves down and I’ll bring the java.” 

“Bring a third cup and join us,” Hutch called. “You need to hear this, too.”

Starsky slid in first and Hutch joined him on the same side. Huggy brought a tray with three mugs and a full pot of coffee. While he took the bench seat across from them, Hutch distributed the cups and poured.

“I’m not sure what this is about yet, Hug,” Starsky said, “but Hutch and I answered a call a few days ago that turned out to be more than a simple disturbance.”

“Dead girl, wasn’t it?” Huggy’s voice and expression were tense - he never took death lightly. “Think I heard about that.” 

“Right,” Starsky agreed. “But we weren’t allowed to stick around. As soon as the team from Robbery-Homicide showed up, we were told to leave, file a brief report, and forget we were there.” He turned to look at Hutch. “Something’s happened now, though, and Hutch is going to tell us what that something is. Right, partner?”

Hutch sipped the hot liquid and put the cup down. “Last night, Van talked me into going to a… a party. She said some members of the fashion crowd had found a new style of… entertainment. She’d been to a few of these things and said she’d thoroughly enjoyed herself.” He drank more coffee. “I thought it’d be some sort of elaborate shindig like those show business people up in Hollywood put on but… it wasn’t.”

Starsky and Huggy waited patiently, for which Hutch was grateful.

“It was held at a mansion above the beach,” he continued. “Way up in the hills, about as far away from its neighbors as it’s possible to get in this state.”

“And…?” Starsky prompted when Hutch hesitated.

Hutch closed his eyes for a moment before meeting Starsky’s. “Everyone was naked.”

“Oh, boy.” Huggy gulped coffee. “Bet I know what’s comin’.”

“If you do, Huggy Bear, you’re more tuned in to the world than I was,” Hutch admitted, holding his mug in white-knuckled fists. “Cyrus Porterfield, was there.”

Starsky nearly choked on his mouthful of coffee before swallowing. “He was the one who took charge of the crime scene on Monday, wasn’t he?” 

Hutch nodded. “Yes, he was.”

Huggy set his mug down gently. “Pray continue, sir.”

“I won’t tell you what he was doing,” Hutch went on, “but he wouldn’t want it known outside the circle of those who were in attendance.”

“Are you _sure_ he didn’t see you?” Starsky was clearly worried.

“I’m sure, Starsk. He was really concentrated on his… task. He never looked toward the entrance.”

Starsky dropped his gaze to his coffee. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_”

Hutch didn’t know at whom his partner’s ire was directed and it caused his heart to miss a beat. “Do you hate me, Starsk?”

Starsky looked at him sharply. “Do I _what?_”

“Do you hate me?” Hutch repeated, softly.

Starsky’s expression was surprised, not angry. “Hate’s too strong a word. I’d probably be disappointed, floored possibly, if you took part in the festivities…. _Did_ you?”

Hutch shook his head so hard his coffee sloshed. “_No!_ Of course not.” He reached across Starsky, grabbed napkins, and mopped up the spill.

Starsky smiled the lop-sided grin Hutch adored. “Then why would I hate you? Geez, Hutch, don’t you know me better than that? How could I blame you for something your wife talked you into?”

“I was worried.”

Starsky patted his arm. “That’s cause you think too much. Now, if you’d gotten in, gotten down, and done the nasty, I might have a different opinion. But you didn’t! You’re a good person, Hutch, a good man, and a great cop!” He caught Hutch’s eyes and held them. “And this whole thing is bothering the hell outta you!” He took his hand back and picked up his cup. “Tell us what happened.”

While Hutch got his thoughts back on track, Huggy took care of refills.

“I kept Van away from the people filing into the… performance room, and told her I refused to participate,” Hutch said, at last.

Huggy raised his full cup in a silent salute and Hutch was grateful for the support of his best friend’s friend.

“Van was furious,” Hutch continued. “She pulled me aside and whispered that she’d been told she was a natural dominatrix and wanted to demonstrate her new talents on me. At first, I was stunned. But, then a few of the tricks she’d tried during our recent love-making sessions, made me realize she’d dipped her toes into someone else’s swimming pool. Maybe more than one someone else’s. I said we were leaving. Rather than show her claws in front of everyone, she dragged me, literally dragged me into the powder room under the stairs.”

Hutch’s throat closed down over any more words and his mind tumbled into an all-too-real replay of the previous evening. 

_“Go ahead, you bastard, desert me!” Van hissed. “I’ll find my own way home.”_

_“If you think I’d leave you here in the middle of this… depravity, you have another think coming. You’re my wife and we’re not staying.” He took her arm but she wrenched it away and slapped him. It was a hard blow and it probably stung her hand as much as it did his face._

_“God, Kenneth, you’re so predictable! I should have known you’d be too prim and proper for something as new and… exciting as this!”_

_He absorbed the insults and vocalized hatred. “I’ll wait for you in the car.” Before she could think of some other failing she could accuse him of, he opened the door and walked out of the half-bath._

_No one in the huge foyer paid any attention to him when he strolled outside. Her Mercedes, which she’d insisted on bringing, was parked at the side of the mile-long driveway. He opened the passenger door with his spare key, got in, and laid his head back against the headrest. What in the world would he, could he do, now? _

_He dozed. Just before sunrise, car doors were slammed and engines started. Apparently, the partiers were ready to slither back to the holes and burrows they called home._

_Vanessa came out a little after five. A tall, elegantly dressed dark-haired dandy - an obvious wig firmly in place and makeup either repaired or un-smudged - escorted her to the driver’s side of the Mercedes, not even glancing at Hutch._

_He took the keys from her, unlocked and opened the driver’s side door before giving them back. “A painful pleasure, as always, my dear.” He bent and kissed her hand._

_“You have my number, Howard,” she responded, obviously wanting Hutch to overhear. “Call me whenever you need to be reminded of your… place in the group.”_

_“Of course.” He bowed, turned, and walked back to the house._

_Van got in the car, staring straight ahead. “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my entire life!” She started the engine and floored the accelerator. Tires spit gravel and the rear end fish-tailed, nearly clipping a black Ferrari, before she regained control. “I promised them a new player and you disappointed everyone!”_

_“Do they know our names?” he asked._

_“First names, or nicknames. No one ever knows anyone’s surname.”_

_Hutch didn’t say another word on the way home and all Van did was fume. As soon as the front door was closed behind them, she whirled on him. “You never want to try anything new!” she screamed. “The only things you ever talk about are that partner of yours and your stupid street people! We’re married, Ken, and as my husband, you should want to help me enjoy myself.”_

_She stomped to the bedroom and stripped down to her black leather bra and thong, leaving her dress lying where it fell. Instantly, he realized why she’d been ready when he got home - she hadn’t wanted him to know the kind of party they were going to. _

_Hands on hips, she glared at him. “I want to continue being a part of this new scene, and you need to participate. If that means you grow a pair and learn to be a master, fine! Or you can fall on your knees and be a submissive! I don’t care! But you **will** do one or the other!”_

_She seemed to consider what she’d said. “Of course, if you decide to be a dominant, we could have trouble. I’m told two doms in one household can be problematic. Oh well, we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”_

_She stormed into the bathroom, her stiletto heels clicking on the tile floor, and began to scrape off her makeup, positive he was watching her. “If you don’t,” she threatened, “I’ll be more than happy to spread the rumor that you **do!** I’m sure Internal Affairs will have something to say about that! I’m told that none of what goes on at the parties is illegal, but I.A. probably wouldn’t look too kindly on a sworn officer attending such functions.” She glanced up and caught his eyes in the mirror. “Now would they?”_

_He turned and walked out of the bedroom. Sitting down on the couch in the living room, he listened to the rest of her ablutions. Finished at last, she strode to the bedroom door and slammed it._

_For the next two hours, until he had to get ready to go to work, he thought about all that had happened, feeling himself being drawn closer and closer to the edge of the abyss. It was so deep, he couldn’t see the bottom._

The memory came to a screeching halt and Hutch realized he’d never felt so helpless. He honestly didn’t know if he wanted to tell Starsky and Huggy all of it but, in the end, and since they’d waited out his silence so patiently, he related every word and detail. 

“That, my friend,” said Huggy, “is one fucked up mess.”

Hutch spread his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I think I’m trapped.”

Starsky put an arm around Hutch’s shoulders. “No, you’re not, buddy. We’ll figure something out.”

Hutch was so grateful for the comforting arm and the supportive words, he couldn’t speak for a minute.

Starsky broke the silence. “That girl that was killed, whose body was reported on Monday… she probably died during one of those parties being held here in town!” He jostled Hutch’s shoulders. “Don’t ya think?”

Hutch nodded and noticed Huggy’s silent agreement, as well.

“What if Porterfield was there,” Starsky asked. “And that’s how he knew to show up so quickly? I’ll just bet he’ll make sure the investigation goes nowhere, and ends up as an unsolved.”

Unfortunately, Hutch agreed with that prediction. 

“I think…” Huggy’s voice was tentative. “I think I may have a way you can escape your ball ‘n’ chain’s ultimatum, Hutch.” 

Hutch latched onto the hope. “How, Huggy? Please! Tell me how!”

“I’ve got a cousin who, unfortunately, is into that kinda crap. And he hates cops who think they’re too good for the rest of us! If I let him know the identity of this R-H detective, he’ll beat feet to I.A. and rat him out.”

“Any investigation would be kept below the radar, Hug,” Starsky said. “How would that help Hutch?”

“First,” Huggy began, his expression turning sly, “we let my cousin nose around a little, get names, lots of names, including the name Vanessa Hutchinson. And my cousin will make sure I.A. knows her husband was unaware of her… hobby. He’ll tell those tin collectors that Vanessa and Detective Porterfield have been keepin’… unsavory company. I’m willing to bet that every time she attended one of those get togethers, except for last night, Hutch was on duty and you two can prove it.”

Starsky nodded. “That would help. We can’t let this blow up on Hutch.”

“It won’t. I promise you that.” Huggy was smiling now. “My cousin will also let people in the fashion industry know Van’s dabbling in the very naughty-naughty. Some of them may already be taking part, but the top people are celebrities, of a sort. They might not want to be associated in the press with a known dominatrix. Her high-dollar photo shoots and runway slots could be in jeopardy.”

Hutch finished his coffee. “How soon do you think your cousin could make all this happen, Hug?”

“Soon as you two get your honky butts back in your squad car so you can keep the streets safe for us no-accounts.”

Starsky nudged Hutch off the bench and stood up with him. “If you pull this off, Hug, Hutch and I’ll be in your debt forever!”

Huggy put the empty cups and pot on the tray and slid out of the booth. “Just pay your tab once in a while, okay?” 

Simultaneously, Hutch and his partner pulled bills out of their pockets, not even counting, and slipped them under the carafe.

“Toward last month’s total, Huggy,” Hutch said, heading toward the door.

“Hey, thanks, Blondie!” Huggy replied, happily.

“Lock up behind us, Hug,” Starsky suggested, following Hutch.

Once in the black-and-white and logged back in, Starsky looked over at Hutch. “Were you really afraid that I’d think less of you because you’d gone with your wife to that… _thing_ last night?”

Hutch shrugged. “Sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

“I know we’re still sorta new to each other, but you gotta have a little more faith in me than that!”

“I’m sorry, Starsk.”

“Don’t apologize, for Pete’s sake! We’re partners, Hutch. I got a feeling we’re gonna know each other better than anybody else does, or ever has, and better than we’ll ever know anyone else!” He paused for a second. “Does that make sense?”

“It makes absolute Starsky sense.” Hutch found himself able to smile for the first time since the night before. 

*******

Vanessa wasn’t there when Starsky took Hutch home. A note taped to the refrigerator informed him, in flowing script, that she would be staying with a girlfriend. No name, address or phone number was given, not a word of affection was included, nor any indication of when she’d return. 

Hutch crumpled the note and invited Starsky to stay. They had a pizza delivered, drank beer, and watched a terrible late movie.

“I ain’t leavin’ you here alone at night,” Starsky vowed, “‘til I’m sure that bent bitch is gone from your life.” He stretched out on the couch.

Hutch, more relieved than he could say, didn’t argue because he knew he was in no mood for his wife’s confrontations, accusations, or threats. He pulled sheets, a blanket and a pillow out of the closet.

*******

The next two weeks were surreal for Hutch. He and Starsky patrolled their beat, helped victims and caught miscreants, but the unrelenting tension he felt regarding the party and its aftermath, Porterfield’s participation in the event, and Van’s unexpected silence since that night, added a layer of unreality to everything. Clockfaces hanging over tree limbs would have been tame by comparison.

Huggy’s cousin must have done his thing, though, because, one morning, it was an open secret in the briefing room that Cyrus Porterfield had been relieved of duty, pending further investigation of allegations of conduct unbecoming an officer of the law.

“Settle down, people,” the day-shift sergeant hollered. “We’ve got lots to go over before you clowns hit the streets!”

Half an hour later, on their way out of the station, a messenger stopped them before they reached their patrol car. “Is either one of you Officer Kenneth Hutchinson?” 

Starsky threw his right arm over Hutch’s shoulders and patted the uniformed chest with his left. “The one and only, kid, right here.”

The young man opened his pouch and handed Hutch a clipboard. Hutch took it, signed on the checked line, and accepted a thick envelope in exchange when he handed the board back. Without another word, the messenger mounted his bicycle and rode away.

Uniforms heading toward their own cars lingered, trying, unobtrusively, to see what was going on. Starsky waved them away. “G’wan, get outta here. We’ll let ya know if it’s important.”

The officers, some smiling, a few shaking their heads, left. 

Starsky opened the passenger door of their black-and-white and waited until Hutch was seated inside before closing it and scooting around to the driver’s side. As soon as he was behind the wheel, he turned to Hutch. “Open it, buddy! I’m dyin’ here.”

With fear and hope mingled equally, Hutch slit the envelope and withdrew a stapled set of papers. Scanning quickly, his face broke into a wide smile. “Van’s filed for divorce. Irreconcilable differences.”

Starsky grinned. “The escape plan worked! Better and quicker than I thought it would, too.”

Hutch couldn’t have agreed more. “Huggy’s a genius!”

Starsky fired up the engine and put the car in gear. “Let’s go tell him!”

“And maybe pay our bar tab completely?”

Starsky appeared to consider that suggestion for a moment. “Yeah. He sure deserves it. And we’re bound to need his help in the future, right?”

“More than likely. We’d better keep on his good side.” On an irresistible impulse, Hutch, knowing he was way out of character, hit the siren and the rooftop lights. When his partner cocked a questioning eyebrow, Hutch shrugged. “I’m free, Starsk, and I’m celebrating.”

Starsky didn’t hurry but traffic got out of their way. 

As they neared The Pits, Hutch cut off the lights and the wail. “Don’t want to give the poor guy a heart attack.”

“Hell, no! Not after what he and his cousin have done for us!”

“‘Us’? You really mean that, Starsk?”

“‘Course I do, dummy.” Starsky parked and shut off the engine before casting a mock-irritated look at him. “And if you still have doubts about that, my friend, we have a lot more talkin’ to do!”


End file.
